Not Much Luck Here
by CountItNot
Summary: While chasing a templar, Jacob finds himself in a familiar place. (Just a small drabble, maybe a bit OOC)
The wind roared against him as he ran. It felt like it was breaking its way into his skull, and into his mind, fueling everything he thought of, and everything he wanted to accomplish as of now.

The bloody templar had been running for far too long for being nothing more than a simple office worker. It showed on the man's posture as he was running, this was most certainly not a man who did any kind of hard labor. It was a weird watching him run, though; Jacob figured it usually was when it came to everyone. As he was all too used to be running alone by now.

... Another alley. And another. Sharp turns, yet the damn templar managed to avoid any opportunities to either tackle the man down, or assassinate him right on down. And it started to truly annoy Jacob, whom clenched his fist, almost wishing he had the courage to use his rope launcher and risk loosing sight of him. But that was apparently not needed, as Jacob watched the man take another turn, frantically look around himself outside a huge, slightly charred building, and leap towards a door, which stood open, and just like that, Jacob decided on what he would do with the damn weasel as soon as he managed to get his hands on him.

The dapper assassin stormed right in behind the templar, hoping he had not lost too many seconds of valuable time, and frantically looked around, his brows as furrowed as they could be.

A foul stench of charred... Well... Everything one could imagine hit Jacob like a brick. Even though most of the wood he could see was fresh, and it looked like it was being restorated, the smell still lingered.

Jacob, finally using his rope launcher, now soared up towards a larger pole, and settled, skillfully balancing his body.

The first thing Jacob noticed was his teeth biting into his lip, and his annoyance being overwritten with some unexplainable feeling he hadn't felt in quite a while.

He had managed to find himself, and his prey in the burned down Alhambra Music Hall. It was currently being restored, as explained by the newly laid wood.

Jacob frankly overlooked the templar's escape out of the main entrance, where some yelling could he heard, indicating that there were people in the hall, working.

Though none of these facts mattered to Jacob for the moment.

Said man had properly set himself down, now looking over the whole hall with a unfamiliar expression he would had not recognized himself with. His eyes were downcast, looking over the remains of the place, the new chairs, the tables stacked to the side, the stage...

Oh, the _stage_.

He was sure the stage's rack must had fallen down towards the stage, perhaps tossing the body to side...

His eyes moved along with his thoughts, and his thoughts influencing themselves of every last thing he saw, and... What he didn't see.

Jacob's dapper being sunk down with his thoughts, and the memories that started to pop up in his head.

The end of all those affairs was not a pleasant one. He agreed with that fact fully, however, there was just something intruding about the rest. At least of what he could remember, which he found was oddly enough, quite so much. All those gestures, the crow, the scar.

And one thing he had always wondered about, which had struck him later, was... How come Roth called him by his first name...?

There were too many questions in his head, too much left unanswered and all the perturbed feelings around it all...

"Why not?" ... "Why not?" The words, the voice, they just came into his head.

"Why at all, Roth!?"

Jacob found that his voice had a certain echo to it, that he was not used to hear in the depths of his mind... And it slightly snapped him out from his thoughtful state, and looked up, reminding himself what he was doing. A quick jump down towards the stage, in order to find a proper hiding spot. As even though his entire being told him to go, to get out, Jacob felt like he needed to stick around for a little longer. To look around a bit more.

Even though it had all changed, this stage he was running across, it still somehow felt familiar. It was a nostalgic familiarity, Jacob didn't even think he could have about this. Bundled behind a stack of wood facing the wall, Jacob leaned towards it, and told himself something he needed to hear;

"I don't regret it."

It was a betrayal, maybe? What else was supposed to explain these feelings he had, just by walking into the damned building!?

Hearing footsteps, Jacob took a small glace over towards the stage again. A voice called for him, but he really shouldn't make himself known. Especially if he templar was still hiding-... Oh. The templar. Jacob forgot about him... Well, he would most likely be gone by now, so perhaps it was his annoyance speaking, but... Jacob frankly couldn't care less if he let one go for now. It wouldn't hurt that badly.

Watching the worker wander off in his heavy, dirt stained boots, Jacob rose up from his seat, and pulled his assassin hood over his head, and made his way by the stage again. Just a few more minutes, maybe. Just to sit down.

And so he did. He settled down, almost in plain sight if one were to walk in, and took a deep breath.

He just had to admit it, maybe. And allow this to sink in.

Roth were gone for a good reason, no matter if Jacob's heart wanted to feel otherwise. And he had maybe found himself to not be repulsed by the kiss.

It was just to damn bloody well accept it and try to move on from that.

His expression became desolated for a brief moment, before he stood up, and removed his hood, and walked out of the hall.

Just like that, he had to move on.


End file.
